


A Lesson in Respect

by WinterRopeBurn (NeverSeenHer)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Discipline, F/F, Light D/s, Prompt Fill, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 14:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverSeenHer/pseuds/WinterRopeBurn
Summary: It takes the fifth time that Beau does her elaborately obscene blow-job pantomime behind Avantika and Fjord’s backs that the captain whirls around, grabs Beauregard by the sash, and begins dragging her towards her cabin. Beau squeaks in surprise, but lets it happen regardless, a part of her curious about where this will lead.“Captain—” Fjord starts in alarm.“If you will not act to keep your crew in line,” Avantika says in a low voice, “then trust me when I say I will.”





	A Lesson in Respect

**Author's Note:**

> my excuse is that i was filling a request

It takes the fifth time that Beau does her elaborately obscene blow-job pantomime behind Avantika and Fjord’s backs that the captain whirls around, grabs Beauregard by the sash, and begins dragging her towards her cabin. Beau squeaks in surprise, but lets it happen regardless, a part of her curious about where this will lead.

“Captain—” Fjord starts in alarm.

“If you will not act to keep your crew in line,” Avantika says in a low voice, “then trust me when I say I  _will_.”

Beau just lets herself get pulled along, a wide, lazy grin unfurling across her lips.

She’s thrown bodily into the captain’s quarters, the door swinging shut and locked by Avantika behind her. Beau turns to face her, rolling her shoulders and folding her arms across her chest.

“So, Cap?” she drawls, unable to resist the impulse to arch her eyebrows suggestively. “What’s going on here? You gonna  _discipline_ me?”

Avantika does not smile. “It seems clearer than ever that your little group has not spent much time on the sea at all.” She sighs, taking a small, precise step closer toward her. “If you were truly a sailor, you would be more intimate with  _respect._ You would feel it down to your bones.”

“Yeah, well.” Beau smirks. “You’re not really my captain.”

Avantika takes another step closer. “Believe me, Beauregard,” she breathes, “for as long as you are on my ship, I  _am._ ”

“Oh, yeah? Prove it, then.”

Avantika bares her teeth into a shark-like grin, as if this was the very cue she was waiting for. She takes the final step right into Beau’s personal space and hooks her fingers around her sash yet again, guiding her this time to the chair behind her desk.

Beau follows, an electric current running along the surface of her skin. It’s not in her DNA to back off from a challenge, and she can’t deny the wave of adrenaline and anticipation cresting in her gut in response to the familiar gleam in the captain’s eyes.

When Avantika takes a seat, she gives a sudden, sharp yank on Beau’s arm, throwing the younger woman off-balance and using the momentum to fling her over the captain’s knees.

A hand presses hard and firm against the small of Beau’s back, flattening her against Avantika’s lap. Beau doesn’t fight it, but she feels a flush creep across her face.

“Seriously?” She scoffs. “You’re seriously going to spank me? Am I ten?”

“You are evidently one of Captain Tusktooth’s favorites,” she purrs. “It wouldn’t do to have you flogged like a common deckhand. Yet, at least.” A low chuckle. “But I assure you, this will be more than adequate for your disrespect today. I am not an overindulgent father giving his child a light swat on the bottom, yes?”

Beau snorts. “You don’t know my father.” She squirms, the buzz on her skin and in her stomach still present, despite everything. (Hey, she knows what she’s into and owns it, alright?) “Fuckin’ get on with it, then, Cap. Make me  _pay_  for my  _misdeeds—_ ”

Her snark is cut off prematurely by Avantika grabbing a fistful of Beau’s hair and yanking her head upward, her other hand squeezing Beau’s chin before giving her cheek a smart little tap.

“Behave yourself,” Avantika says sternly. “Or I will reconsider the kindness of withholding the belt today.”

She shoves Beauregard back down, giving her a great view of the wood-paneled floor she imagines Fjord himself saw quite a lot of during his night with the captain. Her heart leaps into her throat when Avantika drags her pants down to Beau’s ankles, her undershorts along with them, leaving Beau’s ass bare and exposed over Avantika’s lap. The captain’s fingers trail gently over the skin of Beau’s thighs, leaving a line of goosebumps in their wake.

A part of her knows she can break Avantika’s hold and fight her off if she wants to, but another part of her feels strangely helpless, vulnerable—and that part sends another spike of fevered desire through her stomach. She waits, torn between resigned and impatient.

Then the captain begins her punishment.

There’s no warm-up or preamble; Avantika swings her arm back and begins with firm but relatively light slaps with her open palm, alternating cheeks but keeping up a steady pace until a definite heat and sting begin to build.

Beau feels her blood pounding beneath the surface of her skin, each smack that Avantika lands actually smarting and stinging upon contact. She begins to squirm despite herself, more experimentally than anything, as the ache is not yet unbearable, but Avantika takes this as a trigger to lock Beau’s arms against her sides, increasing the tempo and force of her strikes with a renewed vigor.

 _SMACK._ With sudden brutality, Avantika’s hand comes down again and again, vicious and unrelenting on the raw, tender flesh of Beau’s ass, until Beau is sure her skin must be marked red with the overlapping imprints of the captain’s palm. She begins squirming for real now, trying in vain to wriggle away from the onslaught of Avantika’s strikes.

“Now, now,  _ma petite fille,_ ” Avantika chides, hitting her even harder now, smacking her sit-spots instead of only her fleshy cheeks, “do not make this lesson last longer than it must. Take it like a good girl, no?”

Her flesh burning, Beau continues to squirm, flailing half-heartedly until Avantika lands a particularly violent slap right on Beau’s thigh. This finally drags a loud squeak out of Beau’s throat, and once that first noise is coaxed from her, it’s as if the floodgates are opened. Avantika smacks her without mercy or restraint, on her cheeks, her thighs, and with every echoing slap, Beau lets out a loud, strangled cry.

The captain doesn’t let up. Her punishment only grows harsher and more relentless, until Beau’s cries bleed into one, constant, hitching sob choked through her throat, renewed with every strike sending blood pounding through her bruised flesh. There’s a buzzing, addictive headiness to the feeling of release, as all of the fight and defiance drain out of Beau’s body, and she at last stops wriggling in order to just lie limp and defenceless over Avantika’s knees.

After what feels like an eternity that leaves Beau’s throat raw and parched, Avantika finally slows in her assault, landing several more vicious hits to Beau’s ass before pausing to admire her handiwork.

“ _Une belle couleur,_ ” the captain murmurs. She grins. “So, I was able to make you cry, after all, hm? You did well,  _mon beau._ ”

Without ceremony, she gives a little shove, rolling Beauregard off of her lap. Beau lands roughly on the floor with a flinch, her butt and thighs still burning hot and freshly sore. There’s also the uncomfortable clench of arousal between her legs, but there’s no fucking way she’s going to let Avantika know how soaking wet she is after that.

She cranes her neck to look up at the still-seated captain. Something about the grin on Avantika’s lips sends a wave of heat through Beau, makes her think  _she knows._

“Definitely taught me some kind of lesson there, Captain.” Beau tries for a smirk, ignoring the rasp in her own voice, the mess of dried tears crusting on her face. She inches forward on her knees, wincing again at her bruised, aching skin. “How about I—how about I try to make it up to you, huh?”

She is knelt now between the captain’s legs, looking up at her with what she prays is not too hopeful of an expression. But  _fuck,_ she’s pretty damn desperate at the moment, squeezing her thighs together as discreetly as she can.

Avantika chuckles, reaching forward a hand to card her fingers through Beau’s hair, to scratch lightly at her scalp. Beau leans involuntarily into her touch, breathing out a soft little sigh.

“Perhaps next time,” the captain purrs, withdrawing her hand. “Come back to me when you can sit again without remembering the sting of my palm, and then we shall see, hm?”

With that, Avantika stands from her chair and makes an airy, sweeping gesture towards the door. Beau hastily pulls up her pants and takes her leave, tossing a sarcastic salute the captain’s way and trying not to look too embarrassed as she exits, her ass red, legs slick, and walking a little funny for not quite the reasons she typically hopes for.

Grumpily, she wonders if Fjord got a thrashing and a smirky  _next time_ , too. Maybe she’s just special, after all.


End file.
